The Calling
by The Incredible Muffin
Summary: Called to a mysterious space station with a dark history, Ryan Nimbus finds himself in the fight for his life, against people with powers he never imagined. Does he have what it takes to win, or even survive? What threat does the deranged Caretaker pose? And what does the mysterious Station S-6-S want with him?
1. A Bad Feeling About This

**STAR WARS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MY OC'S BELONG TO ME. ANY OTHER OC'S BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.**

**Hello, everyone! I know that you weren't expecting this, and indeed, it came up rather suddenly, but I was invited to Rapidfyrez's OCT (Original Character Tournament, for those who don't know). As far as anyone is aware, this is the first of its kind on this site, so I jumped at the chance to be a part of history. If you want to know more about the tournament, go to Rapidfyrez's profile.**

**Just so you know, you're not going to have any idea who my character is, or anyone else's character is, unless you read the stories that they're from.**

The Calling

Prologue

A Bad Feeling About This

Ryan Nimbus had been looking forward to a vacation. It had only been a few weeks since the Battle of Endor, and he had finally made sure that he and his team wouldn't have any missions in the near future. It was looking more and more likely that they would get that vacation, but Ryan was still working on clearing out his terminal of all messages.

Most were small-time offers from Outer Rim warlords and gangsters, hoping to secure the services of the Outcast Blades. As much as Ryan had tried to keep his team's fame to a minimum, there was no escaping the attention that came with being part of the operation that destroyed the second Death Star.

Ryan quickly deleted message after message. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible; the faster he finished, the faster he and Tanith could get some time alone, something they hadn't been able to do much since the Battle of Endor.

Still, as he was sorting through the junk, there was one message that got his attention.

Ryan might not have been Force-sensitive, like several Jedi he knew, but when he saw the message arrive on his computer terminal aboard his ship, the _Desperate Measures_, he felt a shiver go up his spine. It made no sense; he had gone up against the Galactic Empire's best soldiers—he had even survived Darth Vader!—but an unopened message from an unknown sender had him sweating. And then there was the way the message had arrived; Ryan had been literally seconds away from shutting down the terminal when the alert came in. It was almost like someone was waiting for the best way to get his attention.

Swallowing, he opened the message. The first thing he saw was an image of a dark, foreboding station in a dark corner of space; there weren't even stars around for him to get a rough bearing. For a moment, Ryan's eyes—his organic one and his cybernetic—were fixed on the station. It was almost like it had a dark aura about it, one that promised so much… including death. Not even Darth Vader had scared him more than this simple image; it actually made a part of him want to put a blaster bolt through the screen and run screaming from the room.

Still, Ryan was intrigued by what the message said:

_Commander Ryan Nimbus_

_Your deeds in the fight against the Empire have earned our attention. Your skills have warranted an invitation to a friendly tournament that we host as a tradition every fifty years. Bring whatever weapons and equipment that you desire._

_Of course, we would not expect you to participate for no compensation. Rest assured, wondrous prizes will be awarded to the victor: Wealth, power, glory, all of that and more can be yours. To let us know of your decision, select 'yes' or 'no'. Should you decline, this message will delete itself. However, should you accept, coordinates will be sent to your computer._

_We eagerly await your arrival at Station S-6-S._

When Ryan read the last sentence, he jumped backwards so quickly that he nearly tripped over his chair.

"Station S-6-S!?" he repeated, "Seriously? They want me to go _there _of all places!?"

Throughout the galaxy, in the darkest corners of every tavern and bar, there was one story that was almost taboo to tell, but every smuggler, treasure-hunter and mercenary knew about it. The legends of Station S-6-S were dark, and always without a happy ending. The tales of the warriors who entered that forsaken place always had grisly ends… though no one ever said what happened to the victors of the tournaments.

Ryan pondered that for a moment. _Wondrous prizes, hmm?_

While he and his team, the Outcast Blades, were substantially wealthy, they were also mercenaries. Their wealth could dry up at any time, or some accident could happen, leaving them destitute. While the legends surrounding Station S-6-S were full of misery and woe, the prizes that were offered were enough to buy an entire planet, if the tales were to be believed.

_Still, I'd better talk to the others about this, _Ryan thought, _They probably won't like it, but…_

…

"Absolutely not!" Tanith, the team's engineer, yelled at her betrothed, while the other three Blades glared at their leader.

Ryan had asked the other Blades to meet him outside his quarters, where he explained what had happened. Needless to say, they hadn't taken the news well.

"I can't believe you're even considering going to that deathtrap," Bitters, the medic, growled, "That place has a higher body-count than all of us combined!"

"Yeah, boss," Wek, the sniper, said, "If that… that _place _wasn't bad enough, haven't you heard of the people who go to these things? If the legends are true, then the competitors can do stuff that not even a Jedi can do!"

Ryan had indeed heard the tales of what kind of competitors went to Station S-6-S. They were rumored to be far faster than a Cathar, stronger than a Wookie, and had powers that could make a Jedi blush. There were also tales of normal people, like him, who participated; a handful of stories even told of how they won. It was one of the few things he'd heard of S-6-S that gave him a little hope.

"I agree with Wek," Sera, the droid heavy-weapons specialist, added, "There is no reason to participate. It is too dangerous."

"Look, I never said that I would do this," Ryan argued, "Still, we've all heard the stories; wouldn't it be amazing to see if they're really true or not? Besides, it's not like we can't leave; we'll show up, see what it's like, and if things look bad, we'll get out. Simple."

The other Blades looked at each other uneasily. True, if things were as bad as the legends said, then they could just run, and Ryan had never intentionally steered them wrong before… and while bad things tended to happen to them on the battlefield, Ryan was always the one who led them out in one piece.

Usually.

Tanith spoke for all of them. "Okay, we'll look around, but if it even looks like trouble, we're getting out of there, no questions asked, got it?"

Ryan held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I got it. Just let me hit the 'yes' on the invitation, and we'll get the coordinates."

While Ryan went back into his quarters, the other Blades began to have second thoughts. This _was _one of the most feared legends in the galaxy, after all. They could end up getting killed the instant they stepped aboard that feared station.

Ryan came out of his quarters a moment later, shaking his head in bewilderment. "Okay, that was weird; I hit the 'yes' key, and instead of coordinates, it just said to hang on. What the kriffing hell are they trying to—whoa!"

All of the Blades were knocked to the floor when the ship suddenly jumped! It was as if they had entered hyperspace, but if a giant had kicked them into it! Ryan helped Tanith to her feet, while the rest of the team did the same.

"What the hell happened?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know," Tanith said, "I'll check on the engines, you go to the cockpit, see what's going on. Everyone else, get on the turrets in case someone's trying something."

Ryan nodded. While he was in charge of the team, Tanith held absolute mastery of what they did on the ship; it was her domain, even if Ryan was technically the owner. Ryan jogged to the cockpit, but when he looked out the viewport, he was confused. It wasn't the usual hyperspace he was used to; there were still streaks of white, but there were other colors as well, such as blues, purples and reds.

"Okay…" Ryan said slowly, "That's new."

"_Ryan!" _Tanith's voice called over the ship's intercom, _"I'm at the engines, but the hyperdrive isn't on!"_

"What?"

"_You heard me! Whatever is going on, it's an outside force that's doing it!"_

Then, as quickly as it began, the ship pulled out of whatever had taken it, and everyone found themselves on the floor again from the sudden jolt. Ryan pulled himself to his feet, but froze when he saw what was outside the ship.

Station S-6-S.

The massive globe at the center reminded Ryan of the carcass of a beast, while the spikes and rings that jutted out at odd angles were like the spears that primitives had used to bring the monster down.

Looking at the star charts, Ryan saw that the _Desperate Measures _was… nowhere. Wherever they had ended up, it didn't exist on any known maps of the galaxy. That raised the question: how could all of those rumors of a place that didn't exist spring up? For that matter, if no one ever returned from Station S-6-S, how the hell did the rumors start at all?

Ryan's eyes narrowed at the sight of lights flashing around various parts of the station; they were only for an instant, but Ryan had a feeling that the other competitors were arriving.

Looking down at the instruments, he saw that he had control of the _Desperate Measures _again. He settled into the pilot's seat and guided the ship towards what looked like a docking bay.

"All right, people," Ryan said over the intercom, "Get your gear and meet at the door. Looks like we've arrived at the scariest place in the galaxy."

"_Don't make it sound like a good thing," _Tanith grumbled.

…

A few minutes later, the Blades had put on their armor, prepped their weapons and were now just trying to work up the courage to actually set foot on the dreaded station. Ryan had decided not to tell his team about how the place didn't exist on any known charts; they were nervous-enough as it was, and he didn't blame them.

"Just go already!" Wek said, pointing from Ryan to the open door.

"You're the scout," Ryan protested, "_you _go!"

"I wasn't invited to a kriffing tournament!"

"Oh, for the love of…" Bitters grabbed both younger men, one in each massive arm, and hurled them out the door, where they rolled the rest of the way down the ramp.

"Ow…" Ryan groaned, then got up, "Why do I keep falling down today?"

"Because you just decided that we were going to one of those 'nobody returns from' places," Tanith said darkly, shoving past her betrothed. Wek looked at his Commander.

"Someone's sleeping on the couch tonight," he said.

"We don't own a couch… and shut up," Ryan shot back, but he knew that Wek was right; Tanith was still upset with him. Though, she did have a right to be; he had promised that the two of them would have a week without any distractions, and now… well, this was a pretty big distraction.

Ryan adjusted the sheathed sword on his back, then straightened the sleeveless coat that he wore over his Mandalorian armor. If he ended up competing in this tournament, he was hoping that his matte-black armor and skull-design on the front of his helmet would intimidate his opponents. Of course, his opponents might not even be able to feel fear, not to mention the fact that he still didn't know if he was competing in this tournament at all.

"So, where are we going?" Bitters asked.

As soon as the words left the medic's mouth, a glowing, holographic sign appeared in front of Ryan. The blue hologram began blinking, switching between an arrow and the words 'this way'. Ryan looked over at Bitters.

"I guess we're going that way," he said, smiling underneath his helmet. As soon as he turned in the direction the arrow pointed, the hologram began to move; the sign now said the words 'follow me'.

Wordlessly, the Outcast Blades went after the hologram until it stopped at the exit, which led to a long tunnel. It hovered in place, but seemed to be vibrating; if Ryan didn't know better, he would have said that the hologram looked… angry.

"What is wrong with it?" Sera asked, hefting her large blaster cannon in preparation for a possible attack.

The hologram presented the words 'Commander Nimbus, step forward'.

Ryan laid his hand on his blaster carbine, which was mag-locked to his thigh, as he turned to his team. "Be ready for anything."

"Already am," Tanith said tersely, her scattergun in her hands. Ryan noted that all of the other Blades had similar levels of intensity.

Knowing they had his back, Ryan confidently stepped over the threshold. As soon as he did, a red field appeared in the doorway, blocking him off from the rest of the Blades.

"Hey!" Tanith moved to punch the barrier, but Sera stopped her.

"That is a ray-shield," the droid said calmly, "If you touch it, it will burn out your nerves."

Ryan glared at the holographic sign, which tilted in a way that almost looked like a shrug, and then revealed the word 'sorry'.

"What do we do now?" Wek asked from his side of the barrier.

"I assume that there's no way to get through the shield?" Ryan asked, feeling a little silly talking to a hologram. The blue screen shook from side to side.

"Guess not," Ryan sighed, then turned to the other Blades, "I don't think I have a choice anymore. I can either sit here and do nothing, or I can do this tournament thing and get it over with."

Though the comment wasn't directed at it, the holo-screen tilted forward, approximating a nod. Tanith scowled at the blue screen.

"Shut it, you little fierfek," she growled, "This is all your fault."

"Technically, it's Ryan's," Bitters pointed out, "He accepted the invitation, after all."

"Not helping, Bitters," Ryan said, as Tanith pulled a spanner from her belt and smacked the big medic in the head. Ryan glared at the hologram, who was now bouncing; it almost appeared to be laughing. "You're not helping either… whatever-your-name-is. What _do _I call you, anyway?"

The blue screen paused for a moment, before the word 'Fragment' appeared.

"Your name is Fragment?" Ryan asked; the hologram tilted forward again, then flew off down the hallway.

"Ryan, wait!" Ryan turned to see Tanith, who had taken her helmet off, her eyes full of concern. "Just… be careful, all right? I almost lost you once; I don't want to lose you again."

Ryan took off his own helmet and gave the most loving smile he could muster, given the circumstances.

"I promise that I'll come back to you," he said, "And when I get back, you can hit me with that spanner as many times as you want, and call me an idiot for the rest of our lives."

Tanith nodded, doing her best not to let her worry distract Ryan any more than it already was. She didn't fool Ryan or the other Blades, though; they'd been living together too long for that kind of deception to work.

"You guys keep the _Desperate _warmed up," Ryan said, "Hopefully, this won't take too long."

"No problem, boss," Wek said with an easy grin.

"Like Tanith said, be careful," Bitters said sternly, "Remember, I won't be around to patch you up."

"We shall await your return, Commander," Sera said, the most composed of the team.

Ryan gave his team—his family, really—one last look, then put on his helmet and hurried after Fragment.

…

The dark, gothic architecture that was the innards of Station S-6-S was usually silent, save for the occasional grinding of gears and sparks from panels that hadn't been maintained in far too long, but every fifty years, one room echoed with manic laughter. That room was large, but packed with hundreds of monitors, all of whom were being stared at by the cackling creature, the sole permanent resident of the station.

The creature was thin and spindly, with grey skin that was so thin that it was almost translucent. It had bulging dark eyes and a wide, grinning mouth full of dull, rotted teeth. Its skeletal, clawed hands typed madly away at a holographic keyboard. It did not need to sit, since its four legs made it stable-enough that it could stand indefinitely.

This was The Caretaker, a being of sadistic evil, whose only joy was watching hapless mortals—and other beings who didn't fall into the mortal category, but were also far beneath it—fight among themselves for petty rewards like wealth or fleeting power. It glanced at sixteen monitors in particular, each of which followed its newest competitors.

One monitor caught its attention slightly more than the others. The competitor was a human, well-equipped and skilled—for his pathetic race, anyway—but the competitor himself was not what concerned it. No, it was the blue holo-screen that flew beside him that truly caught its attention. After a brief look at the human's file, it knew that the hologram wasn't from that one's world. That meant…

The Caretaker's laugher briefly ceased, though its mad grin remained; it looked up at the darkened ceiling, where nearly two-dozen chains with barbed hooks at the end gently swung.

"You're trying to help that one, aren't you?" The Caretaker asked in a thin, reedy voice.

While it didn't receive a verbal answer, the room seemed to groan for a moment. The Caretaker cackled again for several minutes, black spittle flying from its mouth.

"It won't matter, you know," it said, after calming down, "You've tried this before, so many times over the millennia, and it never works. Every time you do, that competitor fails, sometimes quite spectacularly. Just give up—you have no hope."

The room groaned again, but this time, it almost sounded like a tired chuckle. The Caretaker's face twisted, almost like it was trying to scowl and laugh at the same time.

"You have no hope!" The Caretaker shouted again, then looked back at the newest competitors; for a few seconds, its manic smile fell, revealing a tired, broken face.

"No hope at all…" it whispered.

Then something one of the competitors did distracted the creature, and it went back to its mad laughter.

**And there you have it, Ryan's introduction to the tournament! I hope you're all as excited for this as I am, because I have no idea who I'm going to be up against, which makes it all the more challenging!**

**By the way, if you have an OC in your stories, send a PM to Rapidfyrez, and maybe you can also enter The Calling!**

**I know that it is my custom to make a muffin quote at the end of every chapter, but this time, I'm only putting one at the end of this chapter and this chapter alone.**

**Muffin Kombat! **


	2. The Outer Ring of Fire

**STAR WARS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. DRAGONFABLE DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS OR THE LOCATIONS, SAVE FOR RYAN NIMBUS AND FRAGMENT; EVERYTHING ELSE BELONGS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.**

**Here we go, folks! The first round of The Calling! Before beginning, however, I'd like to thank Rapidfyrez for starting this tournament, and I'd also like to wish my opponent, God's Angel of Music, good luck.**

**Also, one other thing: I wanted to title this chapter "Through the Fire and the Flames", but that was taken by another OCT chapter on DeviantArt. Oh well.**

**Let the battle begin!**

The Calling

Chapter 1

The Outer Ring… of Fire

Ryan had seen a lot of strange, unnerving things over the years. Killer cyborgs, Imperial Intelligence operatives, even Darth Vader himself. Still, as he cautiously traveled down a series of dark, ugly hallways, he could say without hesitation that he would rather face all of that at once, instead of spending one more minute here.

After reluctantly leaving the other Outcast Blades in the hangar, Ryan had begun wandering the halls of the outer ring of the Station, in hopes of finding either an opponent for this crazy tournament, a way to escape, or at least someone who was actually helpful.

At the moment, his only companion was a holographic, blue screen that called itself Fragment, and so far, it was none of the above. It had been responsible for Ryan's separation from his team, and for the last hour, he had been steadily cursing the hologram as it followed him around.

Finally, he could take it no longer, and glared at Fragment from behind his helmet. "What do you want!?"

At first, Fragment backed up from the shout in a display of alarm that was unusual for an AI. Then, it flew in close to Ryan's armored face.

"_I am performing the task I was assigned!" _it said in a synthesized, if very deep, voice, _"And there is no need for the rude language that you have been using!"_

Ryan blinked. And then he blinked again.

"Since when can you _talk_!?" he demanded, "I thought you communicated with text!"

"_I had just been created!" _Fragment defended, _"I was still learning how to speak like one of you meat-creatures!"_

"Meat-creatures?" Ryan echoed, both a little amused and disturbed.

"_Well, you are a living creature, and you are made of meat," _Fragment said offhandedly, _"It seemed to be a fitting label."_

"You're a weird little thing, you know that?" Ryan asked, then sighed. "Oh well, if you can talk, maybe you can answer a few of my questions."

"_Specify, and I shall endeavor to answer," _Fragment said, _"However, some of my available data has been corrupted or blocked from access."_

Ryan waved a gauntleted hand to encompass the seemingly unending hallway before them. It was dirty, rusted and littered with debris. Overhead, the lights flickered ominously, making Ryan hold onto his carbine a little tighter.

"What is this place? I mean, Station S-6-S is known as a terrible place in the galaxy, but it didn't start out that way, right? What was its purpose?"

Fragment tilted to the side for a moment, as if it was thinking about it. _"I apologize, but information regarding Station S-6-S before the arrival of The Caretaker is blocked. I will attempt to access it, but it will take time. As for the Station's reputation, your statement is flawed, due to your limited comprehension."_

"Gee, thanks," Ryan muttered, rolling his organic eye.

Fragment continued as if Ryan hadn't spoken. _"This Station does not exist in your galaxy. Speculation: rumors of the Station changed due to your society's limited understanding of inter-universal travel."_

"What?"

"_This Station is not located in your galaxy, listed in databanks as 'Universe 24-B'," _Fragment explained, _"Indeed, this Station is not even in your universe."_

Ryan took a few moments to digest that. He wasn't in his galaxy anymore… hell, he wasn't even in his own _universe_!?

"How… how do I get back home?" he asked quietly.

"_There is only one method known to me: you must win the tournament," _Fragment tilted forward slightly, _"I am sorry."_

Ryan groaned. "Damn it… kriffing damn it!" he slammed his fist against the nearest bulkhead; it hurt his hand a little, but the rest of him felt a little better.

"_I advise that you hurry," _Fragment said calmly, _"The other competitors will begin fighting each other soon, and the outer ring has been declared the first arena. The sooner you meet your first opponent, the sooner you can defeat them and move on."_

At that moment, Ryan hated himself; in order to get back home to the people he loved, he was going to have to fight against other people who had their own loved ones waiting for them. It reminded him of when he had been forced to turn off the life-support of the Star Destroyer he and the other Blades had boarded several years ago; there was no way that his team and a few-hundred Rebels could fight the thirty-thousand Imperials on board, and Ryan had had to choose between the people he knew and the people he didn't. The thought of all those families that had lost loved ones still gave him nightmares on occasion, and now he had to do something like that here?

With a snarl, Ryan started walking again. "Fine, I'll play this kriffing game, but if I get my hands on this 'Caretaker' bastard, I'm gutting him, consequences be damned."

Fragment wordlessly followed. For almost an hour, they silently stalked the outer ring; whenever the lights flickered or sparks spat out, Ryan took cover—usually behind the chunks of armor, machines and piles of rusted weapons that littered the hallway—and raised his carbine, checking for threats. When there wasn't any, he would continue as if nothing had happened. He would occasionally find doors that would lead deeper into the Station, but they were locked, presumably because the outer ring was to be the arena for now, not what lay beyond. Finally, Fragment spoke.

"_Alert," _he said quietly, _"The other competitors have begun their matches. I suggest that you find your opponent soon; if you do not, The Caretaker will see this as a forfeit, and the outer ring will decompress."_

Ryan froze. "Please tell me you're joking."

"_I am not."_

"Fierfek," Ryan swore, and picked up the pace, while muttering under his breath, "I hate this place, I hate this place, I hate this place…"

…

Not too far away, another competitor was also complaining. He was tall, especially for his young age, and muscular, but in a slim, athletic way. He wore a red, sleeveless tunic with gold edges, golden bracers, long, red, baggy pants, golden anklets and sandals. His blond hair contrasted with his tanned skin, though it went well with his orange eyes that seemed to glow with a hidden fire. On his arms were flame-patterned tattoos, which seemed out of place for someone so young.

In fact, the only thing about the boy that seemed appropriate for his age was his complaining.

"Stupid Stranger," he growled in a refined voice, "I finally work up the nerve to kiss Necrona and, of course, the only way to get back to her is to fight in a place that even the Death Knights fear. Spirits, why do you hate me so?"

He was so engrossed with his complaining that he almost missed the tingling sensation in his arms. He quickly glanced down at the tattoos there; he knew that they only tingled when danger was near. He tightened his grip on the golden staff in his left hand, and checked that the red book with the golden lock and orange orb mounted on the cover was securely fastened to his belt.

"Well, on the upside," he said to himself, "At least I'm closer to getting out; after all, my opponent can't be more dangerous than a dragon…"

…

Ryan wasn't completely sure about the person in front of him; he was tall, as tall as Bitters, but he didn't have the same awe-inspiring mass that his team's medic did. In his hand was a golden staff with a red gem on the end, and a book—a book, of all things! In this day and age!—hooked to a golden belt.

As soon as Ryan had rounded the corner, both competitors halted, and both were sizing each other up. The taller man spoke first.

"How odd, I was expecting monsters and demons to be my opponents in this tournament, not… a knight."

"Um, I'm not a knight," Ryan said, a little taken aback by the young man's appearance, "I'm a mercenary."

"Ah, my mistake," the young man said, "I saw your armor and sword, and jumped to a conclusion. I apologize."

Though their conversation was casual, both men were tense, ready to fight if the other so much as twitched the wrong way.

"So, who are you?" Ryan asked, as he slowly adjusted his grip on his carbine.

"My name is Pyronus," the taller man said, "Pyromancer, and Vanquisher of Drakonnan."

Though he had no idea what any of that meant, Ryan answered in kind. "Commander Ryan Nimbus, leader of the Outcast Blades."

Pyronus nodded, then pointed over Ryan's shoulder. "And what is the name of your spirit?"

"My what?"

"_I believe he means me," _Fragment said, flying over Ryan and hovering near Pyronus, _"Greetings, sir; I am Fragment."_

"Hello, Fragment," Pyronus said in a respectful tone, "I ask that you please move aside; I believe that the Commander and I are opponents in this tournament."

Pyronus began to reach for the tome at his belt, while Ryan raised his blaster. Though it was only a hologram, Fragment decided to move out of the way.

"I don't suppose that we can get out of this without killing each other?" Ryan asked; his opponent merely flipped the book open and pointed his staff at him.

"Even if there was," Pyronus said, "I'm not in the best mood right now, and talking would only delay me getting home."

_Cocky much? _Ryan thought to himself, as Pyronus opened his mouth again.

"**Eldur!**" he cried, and a large ball of fire shot out from the gem in his staff.

"Kriffing hell!" Ryan yelled, diving to the side; as the fireball shot past him, he rose and fired a burst of blaster-fire.

Now it was Pyronus' turn to dodge, barely throwing himself out of the way in time. The Pyromancer looked at Ryan in alarm.

"You have that kind of armor _and _can use magic?" he asked, "That is so unfair!"

_Who is this guy? _Ryan wondered, _Magic, spirits? Is this guy from some sort of primitive planet, or… oh, right, if what Fragment said is true, I'll be facing people from whole other universes. Great._

Ryan didn't waste breath talking; instead, he kept up a barrage of blaster-fire with his carbine, then moved his left hand to draw his blaster pistol. With two weapons, he upped the amount of fire heading Pyronus' way. In order to avoid getting perforated, the Pyromancer had taken cover behind a chunk of the floor that looked like it had been ripped upwards.

"Enough of this!" Pyronus shouted, then stomped his foot. "**Gjósa!**"

Ryan felt a rumbling around his feet, and noticed that orange circles had appeared around him.

"Oh, fierfek!" he cursed, then jumped backwards, just as torrents of magma erupted from the floor. While he had moved fast enough to avoid getting boiled inside his own armor, he wasn't able to escape the explosive shockwave, which sent him hurtling down the hallway, where he crashed against the floor.

"Ow," Ryan pulled himself up with a grunt of pain, then glared at Pyronus, who was resting his staff against on his shoulder, and had a smirk on his face. "That son of a Hutt is asking for it now…"

Ryan aimed his blasters again, but Pyronus was quicker.

"**Logi fugl heift!**"

Now, it was Ryan's turn to take cover, as the Pyromancer began bombarding the area with fireballs.

"_This does not look good for you," _a familiar voice said from behind Ryan, making the mercenary jump.

"Don't do that!" he growled at Fragment, "And where have you been!?"

"_I was staying out of the way," _the AI said calmly, _"However, you looked to be in danger, and I wanted to know if I could be of assistance."_

"Can you turn into a shield?" Ryan asked, flinching as a fireball whizzed past his head.

"_No," _Fragment admitted, _"But I can provide you with information on your opponent."_

"Anything I should know?" Ryan asked as he snapped a shot off with his pistol, but missed; Pyronus was out of the blaster's effective range.

After a moment, Fragment began reciting information. _"Pyronus, resident of 'Universe 79-R'. Age: 15. Specialties: Fire-based magic…"_

"Hold on!" Ryan said, "He's fifteen? He's only a kid!? Oh, kriff this!"

Before Fragment could ask what he was doing, Ryan had holstered his weapons and stepped out from behind his cover.

"Hey, kid! Knock it off for a second, would you!? I don't want to do this anymore!"

After a second, the barrage of fireballs ceased, and Pyronus cautiously stepped away from his own cover.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Exactly what I mean," Ryan said, "I'm not doing this anymore; I'm not killing someone whose voice still cracks!"

"Hey, my voice does not crack!" Pyronus protested, even as his voice rose sharply on the last word; Ryan only smirked behind his helmet and crossed his arms. "Shut up!"

"Exactly," Ryan said, his tone now completely serious as he slowly walked up to his opponent, "I've done a lot of things that I'm not proud of, but I can honestly say that I've never killed a kid, and I have no intention of adding that to my list of things that keep me up at night. I'm going to find my own way off this damn place, and I suggest you do the same."

Pyronus kept his left hand gripped around his staff and his right around his book; he glared down at Ryan.

"I've been betrayed too often to trust anyone," he said darkly.

Ryan chuckled humorlessly. "And people say that _I'm _too young to be so cynical… look, kid, I really don't want to fight you. How about this: I go the way I came, you go the way you came, and we never say that we saw each other?"

"_That would be an extraordinarily bad idea," _Fragment said, floating between the two competitors.

"And why is that, spirit?" Pyronus asked.

"_Because The Caretaker did not set up this tournament for the fighters to _not _fight," _Fragment explained, _"If you do not resume your battle soon, something very bad may happen…"_

…

From within the bowels of the Station, The Caretaker laughed maniacally as it watched the various battles being waged in the outer ring. Some of the battles were interesting, but it was nothing The Caretaker hadn't seen before in its long life. Honestly, it didn't even care who the fighters were, or what they used to fight; all it cared about was the pain that they inflicted upon each other, and how much blood was spilled.

One thing, however, caught its attention; it seemed that two of the competitors had stopped fighting, and not because one had beaten the other. One appeared to refuse to fight, and was trying to sway his opponent to do the same.

"We can't have that, can we?" The Caretaker giggled, then pressed a button on a keyboard. "Let's see how far you're willing to go to save yourself, Station; are you willing to make your brightest hope sink ever deeper into darkness? Either way, I don't care; it will be just as fun!"

…

"_Oh, no," _Fragment said, then began spinning around, as if it was looking for something.

"I hate it when people go 'oh, no'," Ryan commented, "What's with the 'oh, no'?"

"_You have caught The Caretaker's attention," _Fragment said worriedly, _"It is sending its own method of 'persuasion'."_

"That does not bode well," Pyronus said, looking around, "What could this 'Caretaker' do to force us to fight?"

"He could do that!" Ryan said, then tackled Pyronus to the floor, "Get down!"

Ryan had moved just in time; a beam of energy passed through where they had been standing, melting the section of floor behind Ryan. Both competitors searched for the source of the attack; it had come from a spherical machine that floated in the air. An antenna sprouted from the left and right sides, while small cannons emerged from its top and bottom. It was joined by several more a few seconds later, and the pack of machines encircled the two.

"_Defense drones!" _Fragment shouted, _"Be careful; their Unmakers can remove you from existence!"_

Ryan shot to his feet, then extended his hand to Pyronus. "Seeing as how neither of us wants to get killed today, want to take care of these piles of junk?"

Pyronus hesitated for just a second, then took the offered hand and was hoisted to his feet. "Consider our battle postponed."

"Agreed," Ryan said, and the two fighters went back-to-back; Ryan drew his blasters, while Pyronus twirled his staff.

The drones made the first move, diving in and firing wildly; Ryan could see that they were poorly-maintained, and probably could only hit things by luck. Still, they were very dangerous, so Ryan shot one with his carbine, then jumped up to kick a low-flying one into the wall.

"**Logitungu!**" Pyronus shouted, and a wide stream of fire shot from his mouth, incinerating another drone, then swung his staff around in a wide arc, smacking one drone into another, where they both flew into Ryan's field of fire and were quickly destroyed. The remaining drones were soon gone as well, but the competitors had no time to celebrate.

"_Start running!" _Fragment yelled, _"The incinerators are powering up!"_

"Incinerators?" Ryan repeated, then saw that the floor was beginning to open up on the side of the hallway that he had come from; once the floor opened, streams of fire shot upwards.

"Really? Is fire all that this 'Caretaker' can do?" Pyronus scoffed, "It won't hurt me; no fire can!"

"Well, good for you!" Ryan yelled, then ran down the opposite hallway, "Sadly, I'm _not _fireproof, so I'm getting the hell out of here! Come on!"

Deciding that his opponent had a point, Pyronus took off after Ryan; they ran as fast as they could, but the incinerators were catching up.

"Must go faster!" Pyronus said breathlessly, "Must go faster!"

"Just go!" Ryan shouted, as a section of the floor opened up in front of them; instead of an incinerator, it was a deep, seemingly-bottomless pit.

Both competitors knew that they were going too fast to stop in time; they would have to jump. Pyronus pushed his body to the limit and leaped, his long legs and strong momentum easily allowing him to make the jump. Ryan, however, was not so lucky; he was much shorter than Pyronus, and his heavy armor made leaping long distances a challenge. Still, he tried, but even as he jumped, he knew that he wouldn't make it; he would be mere inches away from the edge, but he would still be short.

Just as he was resigning himself to death, a golden staff appeared in his vision; on reflex, he grabbed it, swinging down into the side of the pit.

"Ow! Kriffing hell!" he grunted as he slammed into the solid wall.

"Stop complaining!" Pyronus said, his voice strained, "I can't hold you for long!"

Ryan quickly reached up and hauled himself onto the solid floor of the Station; beyond the pit, the incinerators blazed for a few more seconds, then petered out.

"What…" Pyronus panted, "What was all that about?"

"_That was The Caretaker," _Fragment explained, _"It controls all functions on the Station. If the competitors do not fight, it will unleash the Station's defenses on you."_

Ryan and Pyronus looked at each other warily.

"So the only way to get out alive…" Ryan began slowly.

"Is for us to fight," Pyronus finished with a sigh, "And here I was, just starting to think I could trust you."

"It's not a matter of trust," Ryan said tiredly, even as he got to his feet, "We either fight each other, or we die."

"Indeed," Pyronus said, backing up, "I can say, however, that if we were not being forced to fight, I would have been honored to call you an ally."

Ryan nodded, reaching behind him for his sword. "Likewise, kid."

Ryan sprung forward and drew his _beskad_, aiming to injure the kid enough for him to knock the Pyromancer out. Unfortunately, after sprinting in such heavy armor, Ryan was just a second too slow; Pyronus pointed his staff, the orb on the end glowing with power.

"**Binda!**" he shouted, and lengths of orange, glowing chain wrapped around Ryan's arms and legs, freezing him in place.

Ryan was surprised by the method, but he'd seen the result before; when working with a few Jedi, he'd seen them hold Stormtroopers in place with the Force. While Ryan didn't know what magic was, he at least had something to compare it to; and that wasn't all. He wasn't completely frozen; he could still move a little. Unfortunately, he was too close to use his mini-rockets, his blasters were holstered, and if Pyronus was telling the truth, his flamethrower would be useless. He couldn't move enough to grab his dagger, and his sword was too far away to hit the Pyromancer. What else could he do?

Then he saw it.

Just behind Pyronus' head was a dangling piece of machinery; it was only held to the ceiling by a few wires. Maybe, just maybe…

Ryan twisted his wrist to point his palm at the debris; using his cybernetic eye, he guided the electromagnetic beam from his Palm-Integrated Grappler to the machinery and pulled.

"I'm sorry," Pyronus said, aiming his staff at Ryan's armored head, "But I cannot afford to die here. You are an honorable warrior, so I will make your death as painless as possible. **El**…"

_Clang!_

Ryan smirked as the piece of debris was ripped from the ceiling and crashed into Pyronus' head, and he fell to the floor in a daze. A few seconds later, Pyronus' spell wore off, and Ryan was free to move.

"For the record," he said, dropping his sword and reaching down to grab Pyronus by the tunic, "I never said I was honorable."

Pyronus' eyes went wide. "**Logitu**…"

"Shut it!" Ryan yelled, punching the Pyromancer in the throat, cutting off his air. He then drove his fist into Pyronus' gut and dropped him, gasping, to the floor.

"This fight is over," Ryan said quietly, "You've had to say verbal commands to use your powers, and I've just punched you in the throat."

Pyronus coughed. "En… **Endurfæðingu!**"

Pyronus' body was engulfed in fire; a moment later, it dissipated, and the Pyromancer was back on his feet, looking perfectly healthy, if a little tired.

"Why is it that I never hit people hard enough to take them down?" Ryan lamented.

"I didn't want to have to use that," Pyronus admitted, "At least, not until after the fight."

"You're still a little close to use your fire on me," Ryan pointed out, barely out of reach of his opponent.

"But your sword is on the ground," Pyronus countered.

Ryan glanced down at his fallen saber. "So it is."

Without another word, Ryan kicked out, his boot striking the pommel of the sword. It skittered across the floor, until its serrated point was driven between Pyronus' second and third toe of his left foot, and kept going until it emerged out the back of his heel.

With a scream of pain, Pyronus fell back, clutching his mutilated foot. Ryan rushed forward, his shoulder catching the falling teen in the chest and driving him into the wall, where he slid to the floor with a whimper. Ryan reached down and ripped the blade out, eliciting another cry of agony.

"You'll be okay," Ryan assured him, even as he cleaned his saber on the leg of Pyronus' pants, "I didn't hit anything vital."

As he sheathed his sword, a section of the wall retracted and a speaker emerged.

"**Winner: Ryan Nimbus."**

"Oh, goody," Ryan said sarcastically, feeling no satisfaction from beating up someone who should have been worrying about girls and acne, not fighting for his life.

"**Finish him!" **the speaker boomed.

From the floor, Pyronus looked up at Ryan in fear; for his part, Ryan simply crossed his arms.

"No." Ryan had no idea if The Caretaker could hear him, but he was determined to speak his mind. "I'll fight in this kriffing tournament of yours, but I won't kill this kid. As far as I know, he doesn't deserve it. I'll keep fighting, but you send this guy home, you hear me, you sick bastard!?"

At first, nothing happened. Then, the speaker retracted back into the wall, and Pyronus was surrounded by blue light.

"What's going on?" Pyronus asked.

"I think… I think you're going home," Ryan said, a little surprised.

As Pyronus began to fade away, he looked up at Ryan. "Thank you… for not killing me."

Ryan shrugged. "It was literally do-or-die, kid. I won't hold it against you, if you do the same for me."

"You punched me in the throat," Pyronus pointed out.

Ryan waved a hand dismissively. "Details, details. Besides, you have that healing ability, right? Just do that when you get home."

"I will," Pyronus said, just before he faded away, "and thank you!"

Once he was gone, Ryan turned to Fragment, who had been hovering nearby. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

Fragment didn't have arms or shoulders to shrug, so it just wobbled a little. _"Hopefully. He seemed like a nice person, if a bit… hot-tempered."_

Ryan slapped his faceplate. "Don't make puns. Ever."

"_Sorry," _Fragment looked around, then back at Ryan. _"Are you ready to move on?"_

Ryan gave himself a onceover; he was a little tired from all the running, and he was a bit battered from when he had been hit by that shockwave, but it wasn't anything he couldn't recover from. His weapons and armor were fine, except…

"I'm going to run low on power-packs soon," he said, "I wasn't really expecting to stay here for long, so I didn't bring enough for more than maybe one or two more fights, if this one was anything to go by."

"_Hmm… perhaps I can help with that," _Fragment said. A few seconds later, another swarm of defense drones showed up; Ryan quickly drew his carbine, but Fragment flew in front of him.

"_No, don't shoot!" _it said, _"Since you are no longer breaking the rules, they will not attack you. This area is littered with spoils from past competitions; these drones will search for additional power-packs. Please wait."_

The drones flew off, and Ryan warily lowered his carbine, but didn't mag-lock it to his thigh; he wasn't going to start trusting these strange droids, not after they tried to kill him just a few minutes earlier. After a few minutes, the drones returned, holding several power-packs in claws that emerged from their centers. Fortunately, most power-packs were universal, even if the ones he'd been given were a little old. As Ryan slotted the extra packs into his belt, he tried not to think about how in order for those power-packs to get there, people from his galaxy had probably died.

"Okay," he said, "Now I'm ready."

Fragment seemed to glow brighter. _"Excellent! Please follow me; we have a fair distance to travel before the next round, and the other competitors have finished their own matches by this point!"_

"I don't suppose you can tell me about who I'll be fighting next?" Ryan asked hopefully, trying to see if he could get an edge over his opponents.

Now, Fragment seemed to dim. _"I apologize, Commander; I cannot give you any information on the other competitors until you face them."_

"Damn," Ryan muttered.

As the mercenary and the hologram began to move, Ryan spared a glance at where Pyronus had been. Even though he'd been sent home, he still hoped the kid was all right…

…

"Argh… damn you, Caretaker," Pyronus cursed as he hobbled through a dark hallway.

The instant he'd been transported here, he'd known that it wasn't home. His home wouldn't have been a dark, metal hallway like the one he'd first arrived in; the only difference was that this place practically oozed malice, while the area where he'd fought that mercenary only gave him a feeling of vague uneasiness.

Pyronus felt a spike of agony in his foot at the thought of the man who'd beaten him. Who'd have thought that he would have pulled a cheap trick like that, dropping a chunk of metal on his head? Now here he was, in pain and low on energy; between what he'd done in the fight, the power needed to heal himself, and the blood he'd lost from his injury, he was lucky to still be conscious. He still needed a little while longer before his energy returned and he could heal himself again.

The sound of mad, sadistic laughter pulled him out of his self-pity. He raised his staff, the glowing orb providing a little light, while his tattoos began tingling more than they'd ever done before; that could only mean that whatever was coming was worse than anything he'd ever faced!

"Who's there?" he demanded, "I warn you, I am not to be trifled with, and I am in a very bad mood!"

Instead of someone stepping out of the shadows, four walls of energy appeared around him. Once they did, Pyronus found that he couldn't move! It wasn't like his Bind spell, where the victim could shift around a little; he couldn't even move his eyes!

"Don't embarrass yourself," a raspy voice said, and The Caretaker stepped into the light; if it were possible, Pyronus' eyes would have widened at the sight of the ugly creature.

The Caretaker circled around the trapped Pyromancer, studying him like a piece of meat. "Hmm, yes, very nice. Full of fire, quite appropriate, but also so much pain." The Caretaker giggled. "Pain in the physical form, of course, but also pain in the heart. The pain of betrayal, the pain of not seeing loved ones again… oh, yes, young one, your pain will feed the corruption for a long, long time."

Pyronus felt dread well from within him as The Caretaker waved its clawed hand.

_I'm sorry, Necrona, _he thought to himself. _You were right, I should never have come here. I wish I could have told you how much I—_

And then everything went black.

…

The Caretaker made its way back to the control room and watched the monitors. Eight competitors had fallen, and eight remained. Some wanted to stop it—as if they could!—while others either wanted to win or just escape. There would be only one winner, and if they wanted to leave, it wouldn't stop them; they'd have fulfilled their purpose, anyway.

After a few minutes of watching, the chains above began to rattle, and the room groaned softly.

"Oh, don't complain," The Caretaker said gleefully, "You should feel wonderful! Your little 'chosen one' didn't kill the child; at the moment, his conscience is clear. If he knew that the fate of his opponent would be something _worse _than death…"

The Caretaker stopped talking, interrupted by a fit of giggles. When it finally stopped, it looked up at the dark ceiling.

"If he knew what he'd put that child through, it would break him. Oh, I do hope that he makes it to the final round, so that I can tell him! The pain that it would cause him… it might be one of the best catches yet!"

As The Caretaker began laughing again, the chains above rattled and the room made a series of short groans… almost as if it were crying.

**And there you go! That's the first round! I hoped you liked it. I'll admit, this was kind of tough for me to write, once I realized that Ryan's opponent was only 15. Ryan isn't a bad guy, he has morals, so killing a kid would be out of the question, even if said kid was trying to light him on fire.**

**As for what happened afterward… Well, the only way you're going to find out is if I move on to the next round, so let's hope that Rapidfyrez and the other almighty judges vote for me!**

**On a side note to my opponent, God's Angel of Music: I am so sorry for all the injuries I inflicted on Pyronus! Also, I hope that I got his attitude right. After Ryan saved him, I thought it would be appropriate for him to return the favor.**

**Good luck to all the other competitors out there!**


End file.
